


wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Isak is 16/23 in this, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Weddings, and Even's 18/25
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: It's just Isak's fucking luck that he'll probably be outed before he ever kisses a boy. Fortunately, Even's there to fix that, only to flit out of Isak's life right after. Years later, a wedding brings them back together.





	wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY LAST DAY OF SKAM!! i'm really emo rn so i'm gonna post this fic even though i have misgivings about it?? i hope someone enjoys it though. shout out to [ceecee](http://westiris.tumblr.com/) for reading over this. i thank skam every day for bringing you into my life :) 
> 
> i'm going to try my best to update this once a week. the next few chapters are partially written, but my life is a lil wild right now so we'll see how that goes. 
> 
> title from supercut by lorde because i've been listening to melodrama nonstop.

**Now**

_Sorry, baby, I have to work late. Tell Noora and Eva congrats from me! xoxo_

Isak sighs, rubbing at his temples. He should’ve expected this—Wesley has a huge project coming up at work. It’s all he can talk about, but there’s very little about customer analytics or audience tracking that Isak cares for. He can hardly blame his boyfriend, either. Isak’s spent the last week cooped up in his office, grading papers or preparing for that huge conference in Copenhagen. They’d skipped their usual Tuesday date night, but that was probably for the better. Isak doesn’t have enough energy to force a conversation. The only good thing he’d get out of date night would be the sex, and he has the comfort of his own hand and his best dildo for that. It’s much more efficient that way.

Sometimes, he wonders if it’s even worth it to keep Wesley around, if it’s ever really been worth it, when neither of them are committed to moving forward. Jonas and the rest of the guys certainly don’t think it is, and it’s rare that he can escape getting drinks with them without someone bringing it up. At this point, he’s mostly stayed with Wesley out of a combination of sheer stubbornness and the impending guilt that would come from breaking off a three-year relationship. Isak’s a practical kind of guy. He’s already invested too much time and effort—what’s the harm in staying, when this may be the only kind of love Isak’s capable of?

He feels like a complete shit for showing up to Noora and Eva’s engagement party in such a sour mood, so he steels himself before walking into the restaurant. Noora’s parents suddenly realized last year that they had a daughter, and that daughters probably required parental support. Luckily, that support mostly comes in the form of absurd amounts of money. Noora has been dodging their requests to meet in person, but she’s not about to say no to monetary support, especially after Eva pointed out that it was a great way to get them back for all the bullshit they’ve put her through. On Noora’s grad student stipend and Eva’s salary as a horoscope writer, they definitely can’t afford to rent a private room here, but when he spies the pack of beer that his friends have somehow snuck in, he wonders why they’d even attempted to have a dignified engagement dinner in the first place.

“Isak! Isakyaki! You’re late!” Eva says, wrapping her arms around his neck. She has a glass of wine in one hand and a beer in the other. She shoves the beer into Isak’s fist, which is probably a blessing for her liver, because she collapses into his arms in the next second.

He awkwardly pats her on the back. Some things will never change. It had used to bother him, seeing her drunk at parties where anyone could come onto her, but now, with her fiancé at close hand, it’s more endearing than anything. Eva deserves this. She’s getting _married,_ for God’s sake. Isak can’t even make his own relationship function the way a long-term relationship should. Out of all his friends, it was hard to predict who’d end up maturing the fastest, but he wouldn’t have guessed Eva. Looking back on it, maybe he’d underestimated her a bit—he’d gotten to know her first as Jonas’s girlfriend, after all, when they’d both been a little lost. 

“Sorry, one of my students wanted me to change her exam grade,” he says. Laurie hadn’t seemed to understand that no matter how well she argues, she can’t change the theory of natural selection. He hates teaching Intro to Biology, but he’s paying his dues, which is fine, whatever. He just wishes his students would understand that the basic premise of science is that there’s a _right_ answer, not a half-assed, rambling rabbit hole of an explanation that the liberal arts students who are only taking the class as a requirement manage to cook up. 

It’s pretty wild, honestly. Laurie had been one of the more creative ones. He’ll never think about Darwin’s finches the same way again.

Eva tuts. “Sometimes I still can’t believe that you’re in charge of real people. You’re, like, molding young minds.”

“I taught you Biology didn’t I?”

Eva slaps his chest. “ _Badly,_ I barely passed.” Isak stares at her, and she stares back for a second, before bursting into laughter. “Okay, so that may have been more because of me than you, but in my defense, all I need to know about biology is human biology.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You know, for _s-e-x—“_

As if summoned, Noora comes up to them, laces her fingers through Eva’s. “Hi, Isak. Long time no see,” she says drily.

They’d seen each other less than two hours ago, when he’d run into her at the only coffeeshop on campus. It’s one of those hipster, student-managed places that are always overrun with undergrads. Isak tries to avoid it as much as possible, but the Keurig he keeps in his office had huffed its last breath at the worst possible time. Even after years of living with Noora, he can’t profess to knowing her well. They’re both intensely private people, no matter how hard Eskild had tried to force weekly family dinners on them. The longest conversation he had with Noora back in high school had to do with a clogged toilet, and he’d rather not revisit that experience. Plungers are still a little traumatic for him.

He talks to her _more_ now, even as spending time with his friends from high school becomes increasingly more difficult. They’re in completely different programs—him in Molecular Biosciences and her in Peace and Conflict Studies—but somehow wind up at the same events and study spots around campus. It’s nice to see a familiar face, though, because sometimes, he still feels like that lost seventeen-year-old kid who’d first moved into the kollektiv.

Noora had given him a lecture about the versatility of potatoes the first weekend after she’d moved back, when she’d found him in the kitchen staring blankly at a text from his dad. The lecture had been a little much, but she’d ended up making him homemade French fries, which was pretty cool. She’s a pal.

Eva pokes at the beer can in Isak’s hand. “You aren’t drunk yet,” she says, pouting.

He holds up the beer bottle. “Alcohol does take a while to work, you know, it’s this little thing called science. I’m trying.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “You better be. This is my party, and I make all the rules.”

Noora wraps an arm around Eva’s waist, drawing her back. An amused smile plays at her lips. “Alright, babe, let’s go say hi to your mom.”

Eva makes a face. “I don’t wanna.”

“I heard she bought you a lot of fancy wine.”

Eva purses her lips, considering. “I guess I can talk to her for five minutes.”

Noora waves her phone. “I’ll even set a timer.”

“Good.” Eva presses a kiss to Noora’s lips. “My hero.”

As soon as Noora and Eva leave, Jonas slides up next to him. “Hi, bro, you made it,” he says, punching his shoulder lightly.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Of course I was going to make it. They’re my oldest friends.”

Jonas raises his eyebrows. “Like you’ve been making Friday night Bros & Beers?”

Magnus had coined the name the summer after high school, when everything had seemed like an ending. Jonas would be off backpacking in Asia, Mahdi to Edinburgh, and Magnus and Isak to different programs at UiO. They’d made a pact to meet up whenever they could. Bros & Beers had started up again as soon as they all returned to Oslo, but Isak can admit he’s been slacking. It’s not that he’s intentionally avoiding his friends, but it’s getting hard to face them.  

Mahdi has been dating his boyfriend for two years, Jonas is slowly climbing up the ladder at the nonprofit he works at, and Magnus actually enjoys teaching now, after a rocky first year. They’re all so fucking _settled,_ and Isak loves school, but sometimes, he feels like that’s all he is. It’s easier to bury himself in research and assignments than confront why it is, exactly, that he can’t sleep, why waking up in the morning is an hour-long process that only has an eighty percent chance of success.

Isak punches Jonas’s shoulder back. “Sorry, man, after I finish this project—“

“Then you’ll have another one?”

All Isak can do is shrug. Jonas knows him too well by now.

“Look, I know that you’re into this nerd shit, and I wouldn’t be on your ass if I knew that you actually liked everything else going on in your life, but I know your sad face.”

“Hate to break it to you, but my angsty teen phase was a good five years ago. I don’t even have a crush on Gerard Way anymore,” he says, but the joke falls flat.

“Where’s Wesley?”

Isak takes a sip of his beer. “He’s working.”

Jonas gives him the particular eye roll he reserves for all the things he deems tragic in Isak’s mess of a life. It’s the best friend eye roll, the eye roll that says _I only want the best for you._ It’d be endearing if it weren’t so annoying. Isak’s a goddamn adult, and he can make his own shitty decisions, thanks. “I told you—“

Isak shrugs. “I do the same thing to him.”

“I never thought you would shack up with a _marketing exec._ ” From the way Jonas spits it out, Isak may very well be sleeping with Vladimir Putin.

“You set us up,” Isak reminds him.

“That’s before I found out that his idea of a good time is adding people to his professional network.”

Isak grimaces as she hears Eva’s laugh from across the room. She’s talking to one of the other grad students in Noora’s department, and he’s listening avidly. When Eva had first started dating Noora, she called him in the middle of the night, ranting about how she’d never be smart enough, worldly enough, ambitious enough for Noora. Her insecurities had flared up again when Noora decided to get another degree, and Isak had heard one too many rants about hot grad students in wire-framed glasses sweeping Noora off her feet, before he’d pointed out that most of those grad students would be like _him,_ and he has literally zero potential for wooing Noora.

“Well, you’re gay,” Eva had said, but he thinks his spiel about the sheer geekiness of grad students helped a little. Maybe he’s tooting his own horn, but if there’s one thing he’s prided himself on over the past few years, it’s his marginal improvement in emotional maturity. It obviously hasn’t improved enough, though, if he and Jonas are arguing about his fucking love life at their friends’ engagement party, so he says, “Can we not do this here? I promise I’ll make our next Bros & Beers, and we can unpack my apparently shitty relationship then.”

Jonas holds out his pinky finger. “Promise?”

“What are we, twelve?”

“I know you won’t break it. It’s in the bro code.”

Isak links his pinky with Jonas’s, but not until he rolls his eyes. “Is it right after sneaking cheap beer into your friends’ fancy engagement party?”

Jonas holds up his hands in protest. “I wasn’t about to buy into this overpriced bullshit.”

“There’s a little bit of bouillabaisse on your mouth.”

Jonas’s look is unimpressed. “You didn’t even pronounce it right.”

“Okay, if it makes your bougie ass feel better.”

Suddenly, someone tackles him from behind, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Isak, bro, blessing us mere mortals with your presence.”

He awkwardly reaches behind himself to pat Magnus on the back. “Why is everyone so surprised that I made it?”

Mahdi and Jonas glance at each other, but not quickly enough for it to go unnoticed. “We kind of assumed that Wesley had you locked up somewhere. Or your professors. Or one of our students,” Mahdi says.

“First of all, _ew,_ second of all, I sent you guys a meme, like, thirty minutes ago, it’s not like I’ve disappeared.”

Jonas snorts. “No one said locked up in a sexy way, man, but if that’s where your mind went first—“

“That’s only because this guy,” he points at Magnus accusingly, “won’t stop telling us about his BDSM dreams.”

“I told you guys for emotional support, not so I could be attacked. And that’s a little unfair, isn’t it? What about when Jonas dated that foot fetishizer?”

“For the last time, she didn’t have a foot fetish—she just worked at a shoe store, and she was very enthusiastic about it. Let her live her goddamn passions, man.”

Thankfully, the sound of a spoon clanking on glass interrupts their bickering. Eva’s standing in front of the room, clutching Noora’s hand. Her face is flushed from alcohol, and even Noora is holding a wine glass in her hand—not that she’s had much of it. They’re positively glowing, and in spite of himself, the corners of Isak’s mouth lift upwards.

Eva raises her glass. “I want to thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement. I’m not going to talk for long, because I’m sure you all want to get back to the party. But you all mean so much to us, and we appreciate all the support you’ve given the both of us.” She turns to Noora and squeezes her hand, smile growing wider as Noora squeezes back.

Noora’s laughter is carefree as she says, “To love and friendship.”

To his side, Magnus downs his entire beer bottle with no shame. When he’s done, he lets out a burp, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “That was my kind of toast.”

Isak shakes his head, a little fondly. “Never change, Magnus.”

Magnus bats his eyelashes at him. “Is this your way of admitting you love me?”

Isak snorts. “You wish.”

“Hey, I think I’d make a pretty great boyfriend. I cook, kinda, I can clean, better than you, and—“

But Isak’s already tuning him out, because standing across the room is a sight Isak never thought he’d see again. Even Bech Næsheim is standing right there _,_ like a ghost come to life. The sight of him is a punch to the gut, and Isak’s a little surprised he manages to stay standing. Even’s clutching a camera in one hand, skimming the room with the most adorably confused look on his face—and no, Isak needs to stop. Even has no right to make him feel like this, after all these years. Not after how things had ended with them, how Even had exited his life with no explanation, like Isak had no stake in what happened to him.

A part of his brain reminds him that there hadn’t been much of _them_ to end in the first place.

He doesn’t hold it against Even anymore. But it had taken him months, years, to get him out of his head, and he has the audacity to show up like this, like all of Isak’s nightmares and dreams wrapped into one.

“Is that Even? I didn’t know he was coming today,” Magnus says. He waves Even over, and Isak’s a little surprised when he actually starts weaving his way through the tables. Maybe he’s not a ghost after all. Shit. The universe is so fucking unfair.

Maybe it’ll at least cut him a break and save him the killer hangover tomorrow, because Isak’s gonna chug all of his beer right now, probably take the rest of the boys’ too. No one can fucking stop him. He deserves this.  

And then, suddenly, Even’s standing right in front of him, close enough to touch. Isak had forgotten how beautiful he is, and the years haven’t changed that one bit. There’s that familiar hairdo again, those long legs, that smile that makes Isak’s stomach erupt into flutters.

“You remember Even, right? From Nissen?” he hears Magnus say. As if Isak could forget, even if he didn’t have a gigantic crush on the guy, not after the way he’d left school. He’d gone around in a daze those first few days after, unable to comprehend that Even wasn’t coming back. The memory still makes his stomach churn.

Isak jolts back to attention when Magnus snaps his fingers in front of his eyes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Isak shakes off the haziness. “Nothing, I was just—“ He accidentally catches sight of Even’s eyes, which are as blue as ever, and his next words come out a little choked. “Hi, Even.”

Even’s smile is tentative. “Hi, Isak. How’ve you been? Been a while.”

Seven years, to be exact. Seven years when Isak’s had ample time to get the fuck over this guy. He’s had no shortage of hookups after he came out, before Wesley. He looks good in just the right shade of red, and his curls are kind of hot, apparently, and it had been no problem learning to explore the parts of himself he’d locked up before that night with Even. But those guys fade away with Even here, in the flesh.

It had just been one kiss. Innocent, by most standards. But it had been his everything for the longest time. He wonders if it’s his everything still.

“Good,” Isak forces himself to say. “Just…doing things. Good things. Yep.”

“Good things,” Even repeats, amused.

“They are really good.” Against all odds, Isak’s lips twitch.

“Did you know Even’s been traveling all over the world since high school? Where were you last, Malaysia? He makes, like, the _best_ short films, man, you watched that one we told you about, right? About the girl with depression?”

Isak vaguely recalls the memory, but to be honest, he tunes out every time one of the guys mentions Even. Which probably explains how he’d missed the fact that Even’s back in Oslo.

It seems kind of petty in retrospect. But Even had broken his heart without knowing it, so Isak figures he’s allowed to be a little bit of a drama queen. The last time he’d been in contact with Even was after the incident, when Isak had sent that long string of texts asking him where the hell he was, whether he was okay, if he needed anything from Isak.

(He never did.)

Even had left Isak on read. He’d later learned from the guys that Even had transferred to Bakka. Of course he wouldn’t tell Isak. They’d barely been friends. He’d always found Even frustratingly impossible to read. That turned out to be true in the end, even if he’d managed to trick himself otherwise.

Isak scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh, had been meaning to watch that.”

Even offers him a smile. “It’s okay, I remember how horribly uncultured you are. I forgive you.”

“Excuse me, just because I don’t like artsy as fuck movies that only end in death and suffering doesn’t mean I’m uncultured.”

“Isak, you like Nicolas Cage,” Jonas points out, and okay, he’s taking away Jonas’s best friend privileges now. He’s _trying_ not to look like a total loser here.

Even lets out a chuckle. “I’m not surprised.”

Before they can discuss how horribly uncool Isak is, a topic he knows could go on for days, Isak interrupts. “Why are you back in Oslo?”

Isak can’t help but feel a little proud when he sees Even raise his eyebrows in surprise. He’s not the same scared, timid boy he was at sixteen, too awkward and shy to ask anything of Even outright. This is a changed Isak. He’s totally grown up, matured, blossomed.

Yeah, fucking right.

But Even doesn’t have to know that.

“Noora helped me with some research on my last project, so I offered to do their wedding photos for free. These aren’t the official ones, of course, but I thought it’d be nice for them to have some pictures from their engagement party.”

Isak swallows. “How long have you been back?”

“Only about a month.”

“We invited you to drinks with him the other week, but you were on a date,” Jonas reminds him.

Isak does not remember this one bit. He remembers them mentioning that an old friend was in town, but that was the extent of it. If he’d known it was Even—well, he probably would’ve avoided it even harder, but at least he would’ve gotten some warning.

Isak takes a peek at Even out of the corner of his eye. If the idea of Isak on a date bothers Even at all, he isn’t showing it. He’s tempted to laugh at himself. What did he expect? Even’s probably had, like, ten girlfriends in the past few years, and they were probably all supermodels with Ph.D.’s. If he’s as talented as his friends claim—and Isak has no reason to doubt that—he must have girls swooning left and right. Hell, Isak’s about to follow their footsteps. 

“When are you leaving again?”

“I actually think I may be staying for a while this time. I got an offer to work for this production company, and traveling gets old after a bit. Settling down sounds kinda nice right now.”

Whatever hope Isak’s been nurturing suddenly abandons him. He can handle temporary. Even’s just another attractive guy—these old feelings were bound to fade eventually. People get over their first loves every day, based on sheer probability. But having Even around for an indefinite amount of time, when he’s so close to all of Isak’s friends?

It’s the scariest fucking thing.

He hands Jonas his empty beer can. “Can you throw this away for me? I gotta run to the bathroom. Alcohol makes my bladder go,” he waves his hands around in a way that he hopes makes more sense than whatever’s going on with his head, “ _whoosh.”_

As soon as he makes it inside a stall, he presses his head against the door. “Alcohol makes my bladder go _whoosh,”_ he mouths to himself in disbelief. “Way to be cool, Isak, you loser.”

He wonders if this is his natural state of being, or if Even just amplifies his most awkward tendencies, reminds him of all the worst parts of being a teenager. Either way, the safest bet is probably to stay as far away from Even as possible. He’s already proven how quickly he can fall.

* * *

He comes over to Wesley’s that night with a bag of Chinese takeout in hand. Neither of them are in the mood to do much more than cuddle in bed and watch a movie. Normally, Isak can get into space movies just like that, even though it’s his third time watching Interstellar, but his mind keeps drifting, roving and circling back to Even. Even casually making the rounds at that party, fitting into his friend group like he’d never left. Even with a dollop of icing on his nose. Even handing Isak a glass of champagne, only for his face to fall as Isak politely declined out of self-preservation.

Even, Even, Even.

He’s all of sixteen and closeted and confused again. That’s not an Isak he particularly likes.

Isak sighs. He’s not sure he particularly likes this Isak either. He sneaks a glance at Wesley, to see if he’s noticed Isak’s weird mood, but he’s texting one of his coworkers. It’s not always bad. It’s not always good, either, but with Wesley’s hand casually running through his curls, he thinks it always just _is._

That may be all Isak can have. Maybe that’s okay.

“Clients giving you bullshit again?” he says, head on Wesley’s shoulder.

Wesley groans, shifts them around on the bed so that Isak is pillowed on his chest instead. “This guy is an entitled piece of shit. Good thing he’s paying us an insane amount of money.”

“Can’t you just tell him to take it or leave it? Does he have any better options?”

“No, but his company is one we’d really like to keep.” He shakes his head. “But that shit’s boring. How was work?”

Isak snorts. “Same old bullshit. Too many hours, too little pay. I should just quit and genetically engineer students who understand that I’m an actual human being, that’ll really show them.”

Wesley presses a kiss to his hair. “I have no doubt you could, baby. You’re so smart.”

Isak fights the urge to cringe. The truth is, he already fucking knows. It’s easy to doubt his abilities in the lab when none of his results come out right, or when his advisor makes him rewrite entire sections of his dissertation, but he’s used to being the big brain in the room. He’d gotten through high school with 6’s in all his science classes, and it had been no trouble to get into the master’s program at UiO. The first few times Wesley had pointed it out had been sweet, sweet enough for him to get some pretty badass blowjobs in return, if Isak can say so himself.

Now, it just grates on his nerves. It feels routine, empty, Wesley’s way of fluffing up his ego without actually hearing what he has to say. No matter how much the boys tease him, Isak’s not actually that entirely self-centered. He likes his boyfriendly devotion with a little more substance.

“Eva and Noora’s party was fun. The guys even sneaked in beer,” Isak says.

Wesley’s hand stills in Isak’s hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t drink anyway. I have to work early tomorrow.”

Isak’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “It’s a Saturday.”

“I know I promised we could stay in, but this project deadline is coming up so soon…”

Isak grits his teeth, pulls away from Wesley’s touch. “It’s okay. I should visit my mom anyway.”

Her psychiatrist had adjusted her meds recently, and while she had insisted that she was fine the last time he called, Isak could hear the tiredness in her voice. Besides, she’s been texting him a lot of pie recipes lately, which is her not-so-subtle way of appealing to Isak’s stomach. Hey, it works.

Wesley runs a hand through his hair. “I feel so bad.”

Isak makes a decision. Screw Even. He has Wesley, who’s been his boyfriend forever, who’s charming and smart and takes care of Isak when he needs it the most. This rut is no reason to throw away what they have. At least not right now, when he has Wesley in bed, wearing that cologne he knows Isak goes crazy for. Not right now, when Isak so desperately needs to get out of his own head.

Isak shoots him a wicked grin. “Then we’ll just have to make the best of the time we have, right?”

Later, when they’ve gotten each other out of their clothes, and he’s riding Wesley within an inch of his life, he thinks it really does help a little. It makes falling asleep afterwards easier, at least. That’s all he can ask for.

* * *

**Then**

Isak shouldn’t have come. His headache had started at three today, after another shitty grade on a biology exam, and isn’t getting much better. He’d hoped the alcohol would drown out the pounding in his head, but it’d only amplified it tenfold, until every beat from the goddamn speakers feels like it’s about to knock him over on his ass. Biology’s his subject _,_ but over the past few weeks, his performance has deteriorated so terribly that even Sana had to ask him what was wrong. His teacher tried phoning his father, only to get hung up on within a minute of the call.

Isak’s not exactly surprised there. Terje hardly cares about whether he’s alive, much less how well he’s doing in school. He’s never asked about Isak’s interests, whether he’s found a passion yet. For all he knows, Isak could be taking up a lonely career in underwater basket weaving. He’s never home anymore, and all he does when he is there is drink and fight. Sometimes, Isak thinks they’d be better off without him.

Isak knocks down another swig of his beer as he surveys the party with the boys at his side. The problem is, Isak knows exactly what’s wrong with him, knows exactly how to fix it too, if he’s honest with himself. But he’s lived with this for sixteen years—alright, technically only three, if we’re counting from the first time he’d come from watching two dudes fucking. Why it’s suddenly hitting him _now_ , though, remains a mystery.

“Dude, there’s Emma. She’s checking you out,” Jonas says under his breath.

So maybe it’s not such a mystery.

“Guys, Even’s here! I didn’t know he was coming.” Magnus waves over all of their heads at what seems to be a disembodied quiff, and okay, maybe it really isn’t a mystery at all, and Isak is just lying to himself by pretending not to know why being gay and desperately stuck in the closet suddenly hurts more than ever.

It’s Emma who reaches them first. That’s probably a good thing. Isak should think so, wishes he could think so, but when he looks at her, there’s only a hole in his chest. 

Jonas elbows him in the side, and Isak is reminded of who he’s supposed to be. “Hi,” he says, sly smile stretching across his face. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Isak had met Emma in the bathroom at Eva’s last party, when he and the guys been smoking weed in the bathtub, and Emma was looking for some drugs. It’s a little baffling to him that she hadn’t heard of Zyrtec at all, but it’s even more baffling that she’d liked him, of all people, when her last boyfriend had apparently been a fucking model. Maybe Emma doesn’t have the best judgment in general. Every time, he’s a little surprised that the girls he hooks up with don’t catch on. To him, it’s as obvious as anything, from his shaking hands as he holds on to their waists to the sweat that breaks out on his brow when he tries to concentrate on the feeling of lips, and kissing, and attraction, only to never get it right.

Maybe he’s just a goddamn good liar. The thought should please him, but it only leaves him feeling empty. Maybe this is all he’s meant to be, a fucking lie. 

Emma slides her hand along Isak’s forearm, and it takes all of Isak’s willpower not to flinch. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to see you again, could I? After you saved me from allergy medication last time.”

“Let’s see if we can fix you up with something better, then.”

She presses her chest against his. “I’m looking forward to it,” she says lowly. She moves closer, twining her arms around his waist. She looks up at him through her long lashes, and he thinks, a little bitterly, of how easy it would be to say no.

The guys have been inching away, and Isak catches Jonas’s eye from where he’s standing behind Emma. He gives Isak two smug thumbs up. Magnus, who obviously can’t let Jonas beat him, sticks a finger through a circle he makes with another two, in a move that Isak can’t mistake. Mahdi mouths something that Isak can’t make out, but he’s sure it’s equally crude.

It’s not so easy after all. 

“I didn’t see you much at school this week,” Emma pouts.

Seeing as Isak has been avoiding her, that makes complete sense. He only goes to his locker when he’s sure that she’s left hers, and he’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to take a long as shit detour when he notices her down the hall. He’s well aware of how childish it is, but it’s easier that way. He can handle this with alcohol slowing his instinct to flee, narrowing every sensation down to touch and warmth until he can disconnect them from any specific person. It’s harder to pretend sober. Everything is more real then. 

“Sorry, I had a lot of homework,” he tells her.

“We’re here now, though.”

Isak nods. “We are,” he says. A part of him hopes that it’s open-ended enough for her to just let it the fuck go, but he’d never really given her a reason to believe that he wasn’t interested, just signals that make sense to him but are acceptably straight to the untrained eye. And isn’t that the story of his fucking life?

Emma stands on her toes to reach his lips, but he pulls away just in time, darting his eyes around the room. His gaze lands on Even, who’s talking to Magnus near the speakers. Magnus is gesturing excitedly with his hands, and Even dutifully nods at all the right parts, because he’s a better friend than Isak could ever be. It seems like Magnus has captured all his attention, but just as Isak’s glance lingers a little too long, Even looks up. Green eyes meet blue, and suddenly Isak’s hot all over, and his chest threatens to cave in.

There’s nothing good that can come out of this. Even doesn’t even _like_ him, for God’s sake. Worse than crushing on a straight boy must be crushing on a straight boy who doesn’t even care for him as a friend, no matter how subtle about it he tries to be. They’ve exchanged maybe ten words ever, although their friend groups overlap an embarrassing amount. Isak would be fine with this, if Even could spend even five seconds of every day looking like a normal human being.

Those few months last year when he’s shaved his head on a dare should’ve been a reprieve, but the universe must have something against Isak. He’d lusted after him even then. He’d never known that you could have a thing for the shape of someone’s head before. It may be more of a general thing for Even, though, which is unfortunate, because that means Isak has about as good of a chance of getting over this as Magnus does of ever getting laid.

The fucking universe can suck his fucking dick. But judging by how much it seems to love Even, it might be too busy sucking _his_ dick instead.

Isak places his hands at the small of Emma’s back to pull her closer, to bring his mouth close to her ear. She shivers under his touch, and he wishes she were someone else entirely, wishes he were someone else entirely, but he brushes his lips against her skin anyway. It’s too late to back down now. The guys won’t let this go for weeks. It isn’t worth it. Soon, the conversation would morph from _Isak what the fuck is wrong with your dick_ to _Isak, what the fuck man are you gay_ and he won’t, can’t let that happen.

Even drops his gaze. Isak can’t decide whether he’s disappointed or relieved. That look had probably been a mistake anyway. With all the staring Isak does, probability dictates that Even would look back once or twice.

“Let’s go somewhere more private?” he says. He hears the words, but doesn’t quite register that they’re coming out of his own mouth.

They must sound good enough to Emma, though, because she brushes her lips against his lightly. It would leave any other guy wanting more, but it only makes Isak want to cringe. He clenches his hands into fists instead. This lying, this pretense, it’s for _him._ Things are better this way, they have to be, or else everything would have been for nothing. He’s not, like, _gay_ gay anyway, not like the guys he sees on TV who garner attention with a flick of their wrist and glitter on their cheekbones. He’s not that guy.

But he thinks, as Emma takes his hands to lead him to the bathroom, he’s not exactly this guy either.

Emma pushes him against the door as soon as it slams closed, pressing a trail of kisses down his neck. She sucks hard enough to leave marks, and Isak leans against the door, letting it happen. He’s learned, by now, that girls can interpret anything as pleasure. Isak just has to let it be.

Emma crashes their lips together, and it’s a mess of tongues and spit. Isak can’t think straight anymore, or he doesn’t particularly _want_ to think. He doesn’t resist when she threads her fingers through his hair so she can bruise his lips harder, when she lifts his shirt to play with the skin above his jeans, when she whispers, “You’re so good at this.”

But everything grinds to a halt when she drops down to her knees.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her hand to pull her to her feet. “You don’t have to do that,” he laughs, but Emma’s already narrowing her eyes.

“We’re in private now,” she points out.

“Yeah, we are.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Isak gulps. “I just—maybe I just don’t want to get my dick sucked in my friend’s bathroom, you know?”

“But you’ve done it before.”

He knows. He knows about all of it. He was fucking there _—_ with Sarah, with Crystal, with that one girl he can’t remember the name of because Jonas had scored some truly shitty weed that left him fucked up for days after. He’d been _too_ fucking there, if you ask him, too present to ignore these girls even as he stared at the ceiling. Too present to ignore his own pervasive guilt.

But he can’t get the sight of Even’s face out of his head, how his lips had twitched as Magnus made some lame attempt as a joke, the way his gaze had pierced right through to Isak’s heart, if on the off chance it wasn’t gross and shriveled up already.

Isak ducks his head, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just don’t think—“ he mutters weakly. 

Emma jerks back. “What, are you gay, or something?”

Isak’s breath goes shallow. He can’t suck in enough air to form a response, or even to think. His head is whirring too loudly, too quickly, and he wants to lie down, curl up and close his eyes and forget this ever happened.

But Emma’s still standing in front of him, hands planted at her hips. Comprehension slowly dawns in her eyes, and suddenly, she slaps her hands over her mouth.

“Holy shit,” she says. “I didn’t think you were actually gay.”

“I’m not—“ Isak says, or he thinks he does, but the buzzing in his head is too loud for him to tell.

Emma shakes her head. “What the fuck? Why the hell would you lead me on, then? It’s 2017, no one cares.”

“I—“

Emma’s already shoving past him. As soon as the door opens, Isak is hit by a blast of sound. He’d almost forgotten the party was still happening. It’s a little hard to believe that there’s still a world of fun and laughter and happiness outside of Isak’s head. Isak wishes he were there instead.

“I’m so done with this. I can’t believe I was ever interested in you,” Emma says in disgust. She doesn’t touch him as she steps out, avoids looking at him entirely. It’s hard to believe that this unassuming girl has Isak’s fate in her hands.

The door slams shut behind her.

All Isak can do is stare. Eva still has an analog clock in her bathroom, and he’s acutely aware of every sound the second hand makes. His mom had talked him through this once, when his panic attacks started. He screws his eyes shut, trying to time his breaths with the clock. In, out, inhale, exhale.

For all he knows, Emma’s out there right now, telling the whole party that Isak’s into dick. She could be telling his fucking friends, who deserved to hear it from him, if at all. They’ll all know the truth, the parts of him he hasn’t even accepted yet.

Calming himself down becomes a lost cause as his breathing grows erratic again. In the end, all he can do is slump to the ground and wait for the night to end.

* * *

He doesn’t know how long it is until the door opens. Too long stuck inside his own head. Not long enough for him to pull himself together well enough to face other people.

(Other people who may very well know by now that he’s gay, he reminds himself, and his hands start shaking all over again.)

Isak hastily wipes at his eyes. He’s not crying, exactly, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

That turns out to be a good decision, when Even steps inside the bathroom.

It takes him a moment to realize that there’s someone on the floor, but when he does, he stiffens immediately. “Isak, are you okay?”

A part of him wants to tell Even the truth, wants to see how he responds to that when his concern is obviously borne out of an annoying tendency to help people, not any real worry for Isak specifically. It shouldn’t hurt, but his heart twinges nonetheless. Even doesn’t know him enough to care, and that’s not on Isak. He feels like he knows Even well enough anyway. His friends go on and on about Even this and Even that, and how talented and cool and loaded with weed Even is. Isak doubts his friends talk about him the same way. There’s not really much to say.

“I’m fine,” Isak says instead. “Just…drunk.”

The alcohol is wearing off, actually, which is unfortunate, as Even bites his lip. Drunk Isak may have been numb to that. Increasingly sober Isak is far from immune. “Do you want me to get the guys?” he asks.

“No!” Isak says, too quickly.

Even raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“I just need a minute.” Isak balls his hands into fists, and draws in a long breath. He can do this. He just needs to get his legs working well enough again to slip out of the front doors. He’ll deal with the aftermath in the morning, when his head can take more punches without breaking down.

Even remains standing in place, looking at Isak with an expression he can’t place. After a few more minutes of this, his open staring becomes unbearable. “Aren’t you going to do anything?” Isak says through gritted teeth. The last thing he needs tonight is for Even to see him at his most vulnerable. He’s already been here too long, and Isak hopes that Even’s sheer goodness extends to keeping his mouth shut around Isak’s friends.

“I am doing something,” says Even. He sits down next to Isak gingerly, keeping a careful distance between them, but he remains too close for it to be entirely comfortable.

Isak clenches his jaw. “You came into the bathroom for a reason, and if you need some privacy, you know where the other bathroom is.”

Even shrugs. “Now I have a different reason.”

“What’s that?”

“You,” Even says simply, and Isak’s breath catches in his throat. That’s not what he means. That’s _not._ Tell that to Isak’s thundering heart, though.

“I don’t need you to—to feel sorry for me.”

Even offers him a soft smile. “I don’t. Everyone needs help sometimes.”

Isak nods to the door. “Isn’t your girlfriend here?”

Just saying the word _girlfriend_ makes bile rise to Isak’s throat. He has nothing against her, not really. Sonja’s nice enough, and she helps Even with his weed brownies. Isak has more of a problem with her general concept. She’s a glaring, living reminder of exactly how unavailable Even is. Even if Even were single and somehow the slightest bit attracted to boys, he wouldn’t go for Isak, not when he’s meant to date people as beautiful and smart as Sonja.

Even chuckles. “Sonja? I thought the boys would’ve told you. We broke up last week.”

“Oh,” Isak says, as he feels his heart flutter. Now is not the fucking right time. “Are _you_ okay?”

Even gives him a weird look. “Of course I am. We’ve been having problems for a while. I figured you noticed.”

How can he, when Even barely talks to him? But looking back at all the times they had hung out as a group, Isak can recall moments where the tension just wouldn’t crack, when Even and Sonja spoke in harsh whispers as if the rest of them couldn’t hear. But Isak can’t even figure out his own goddamn feelings—how the fuck is he supposed to figure out everyone else’s?

“But,” Even continues, “even if she and I were together, I’d still be in here with you.”

“Why?” Isak starts picking at a groove in the wooden cabinet, just for something to do with his hands.

“Because that’s what friends do,” Even says, like it’s the most obvious thing.

Isak’s eyes pop open, along with his mouth, but Even’s gaze doesn’t waver. After a minute of staring back, Isak starts thinking that Even’s completely serious. “I wasn’t aware that we were friends,” Isak says slowly.

Now it’s Even’s turn to look surprised. “But we hang out all the time?”

“In a group, where you never talk to me.”

“No way,” Even says quickly, “There was that—that one time, when we got to talking about your obsession with parallel universes—“

“We were both high. That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Isak crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s resisting this so badly, but the idea that he and Even are friends, and have been friends all along, at least from Even’s end, throws him in for a complete loop. That’s one less thing keeping them apart, when it’s clearly in Isak’s best interests to keep Even at a distance.

Isak picks at the cabinet so hard he nearly breaks off a nail. “It’s whatever, anyway. You don’t have to like me just because we have mutual friends.”

“You think I don’t like you?” Even actually sounds hurt, and it tugs at something in Isak’s heart.   

“I don’t really know what you think of me, to be honest.”

Even looks down at his hands. After a minute, he seems to come to a conclusion, and he nods resolutely. “We’re fixing that right now.”

“You can’t just force us to be—“

In a move that’s almost too quick for him to catch, Even grabs Eva’s body spray from the countertop and spritzes it at Isak, careful to avoid his face.

Isak is so stunned that he can only stare at him for a second, before breaking into nervous laughter. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Now we’re friends.”

Isak cocks an eyebrow, but a laugh escapes his pressed lips anyway. “I don’t know if you’ve watched Barney recently, but friendship doesn’t really work that way.”

“I was trying to look for something that would, like, symbolize our friendship, and making friendship bracelets is kinda out of the question, so I grabbed the first thing that I saw.” He grimaces. “That made a lot more sense in my head.”

“I don’t think it makes any sense at all,” Isak corrects.

Even spritzes it at him again, and this time, Isak lets the laughter bubble over, loud and clear. His chest feels light—lighter than it has all night, and he wonders how it’s possible that it’s _Even_ making him feel this way, when all he’s ever felt for Even is a shameful, secret attraction. For the first time, Isak lets himself go, lets Even’s presence and his smile fill him up to the brim. It’s worth it when Even beams back at him. Isak’s never had the privilege of witnessing this up close, and, seeing it now, he knows he can’t quit it, even if he’s destined to languish as Even’s platonic friend forever.

“You know, the whole concept of friendship bracelets is that they link people together,” Isak says.

Even slaps his forehead. “Of course. How did I miss this? I’d love to smell like,” he reads the label on the bottle, “Gingerbread Whorehouse.”

He sprays it on himself, makes a big show of taking in a deep breath. “I’m so glad this is the smell of our friendship forever.”

“God, I hope not.” Isak can’t contain a grin, and he wonders if he’s being too transparent already. If Even knew, he may take all of this back. Even would be nice about it, but there’s no way a straight guy can be entirely comfortable with Isak’s giant gay crush on him. But Even’s grinning at him in the exact same way, and maybe this is just the way Even _is._ He has no idea that Isak usually takes far longer to warm up to near strangers, that he prefers to keep his feelings close to his heart, where they’re in the most danger from himself. Isak’s probably safe for now.

Even waves the bottle with glee. “You can’t escape it, Isak Valtersen. You can’t escape me now.”

Isak sighs. “Guess I should resign myself to my fate.”

“My friendship is actually highly coveted. You’re lucky,” Even says matter-of-factly.

“I seriously doubt that,” Isak says, but his smile only grows wider, and he is, he really is.

Even leans against the cabinet as he grows serious again. “As your friend, can I ask what happened?”

Isak stiffens. “What makes you think something happened?”

“You were crying _—“_

Fuck, he knew he should’ve tried to hide it better. “Can we not talk about it?” he says, his voice small.

After a moment, Even nods jerkily. “I get that you don’t trust me yet.”

Somehow, this feels wrong. Isak is quick to shake his head. He makes a move to place his hand on Even’s shoulder, but abandons it halfway through. They’re not there yet. “That’s not it,” he says quietly. “It’s just shit that I haven’t told anyone about yet.”

Shit that he’s shoved down so far in his consciousness that he doesn’t know whether he can form the words, even when he’s ready. That’s the saddest fucking part, because how hard can it be to tell someone that he’s gay? It’s just two words, and he’s lived with this truth for as long as he realized what attraction was, even if it had taken years to admit it to himself. He’s fucking pathetic.

“You’re full of secrets, Isak Valtersen,” Even says, but his voice miles away from here. Isak is starting to think they’re not just talking about him anymore.    

Isak chuckles. “You have no idea.”

Even finally shifts so that he’s facing Isak, and says, “I know a place for secrets. Will you come with me?”

“Are you trying to kidnap me?”

“Would you say no?”

Isak is still a little drunk from before, though he hasn’t had a beer in a while, but even if he were completely sober, there’s only one answer he can give. Even’s peering at him so intently that he has every urge to shy away. Every second he doesn’t makes him feel braver, more like the person he’s always wanted to be. Maybe he’s reaching, for thinking this moment is profound when it’s just another tick on the clock, but it feels big, somehow. 

“You better get me home in one piece,” he says.

Even winks. “Can’t promise that. The Even Bech Næsheim treatment is pretty wild. I’ll go easy on you, though.”

After a second’s hesitation, Isak says, “What if I don’t want you to?”

Isak could get used to the sight of Even’s smile. “Then you won’t be disappointed.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! you can find me on tumblr at [bechnaesun](http://bechnaesun.tumblr.com/)!


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